


Fidelius Amare

by KittyAug



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Community: hd_erised, Forced Proximity, HP: EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Safehouses, Sharing a Bed, Spies, Spy Draco Malfoy, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-09 03:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12879663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAug
Summary: Draco's cover is blown, and Harry is the Auror assigned to protect him. It would be a whole lot easier if Malfoy didn't have to be so infuriatingly attractive.





	Fidelius Amare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bangyababy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/gifts).



> Happy Erised, Bangyababy. There was meant to be a whole lot more smut in this - hope you still enjoy this little trope-tastic offering anyway. And thanks to S and M for their beta skills and for not only helping me know when to kill my darlings, but how to clean up the bodies after. I really appreciate it, especially for putting up with my last minute changes of mind and re-writes.

"What the hell are _you _doing here?" Harry demanded, jumping to his feet and pointing his wand. Shock and something indescribable flooded him at the sight of Draco Malfoy tumbling out of the Floo and into the Ministry safe-house.__

__"Apparently, Potter, I am here for protection. By you not from you, this time." Malfoy spat the word 'protection' with evident distaste. "Not my choice, I assure you. I asked for their best, but they sent you. One works with what one has, I suppose."_ _

__Harry stared at Malfoy, not sure what part to take issue with first. But he did start to lower his wand. Malfoy looked shaken, even paler than usual, and he was only half-dressed - for Malfoy. His billowing silk shirt wasn't tucked in and he didn't have any pretentiously well-fitted robes on. He wasn't even wearing any shoes, his naked feet incongruous against the scruffy carpet._ _

__Malfoy raised one elegantly infuriating eyebrow while he waited for Harry to find a comeback._ _

__"I wasn't expecting you either," said Harry, at last. Not his best work, Malfoy didn't look impressed._ _

__It was true though, Harry had rushed to the designated safe-house as soon as he got the Auror alert that one of their deep cover agents had blown his cover and needed urgent Auror escort and protection. Harry happened to have read in on the case but he still hadn't known much about the covert agent, known only as Blackbird. Harry knew that Blackbird had found his way into the dangerous group known as the Nouveaux Mangemorts, by seducing Pierre Montmauvais, the right-hand-man of the ringleader._ _

__Pierre was ruthless but gorgeous, and Harry had on occasion tried to imagine what kind of wizard might have managed to catch the man's eye so completely. It had never occurred to Harry that his agent might be 'reformed' Death Eater, notorious playboy, and _Witch Weekly_ darling, Draco Malfoy. Not because Harry didn't think about Malfoy a bit too often, but because Malfoy didn't really strike him as the spying type. Not anymore._ _

__Harry sighed. "Come on," he said. "Let's get this over with. I'm going to reinforce the defensive spells, you can see if there's any tea."_ _

__To his surprise it seemed like Malfoy was actually going to comply, no arguments. Malfoy took one staggered step towards the kitchen and it was then, and only then, that Harry noticed he was injured._ _

__"Shit," said Harry, rushing forward to catch Malfoy's uninjured elbow. "What happened?"_ _

__"It's called a hex burn Potter. I am sure you've left a few yourself. When you're not using murder curses on schoolchildren or disarming Dark Lords to death, that is."_ _

__Harry had wondered, now and then, about the apparently reformed Malfoy heir. He would read an article about one of Malfoy's charities or see a picture in the Prophet of Malfoy smiling, soft and natural and utterly unfamiliar, and it was easy to be curious. Harry had changed so much in those last few years, so maybe Malfoy had too? Sometimes Harry even wondered if he and Malfoy might have more in common than ever held them apart. As always, it only took one minute in the git's presence to cure him of any such romantic notion._ _

__"Malfoy," Harry snapped, trying not to shake his already wounded charge. "What happened? Are you alright, and if not I need to try heal you."_ _

__"I'm fine, Potter. He threw a parting Ligatus and it almost hit, that's all. Wizards tend to take it just as poorly when you call them the wrong name in the wrong moment as witches do. Modern day Death Eaters more so. Luckily, he's a terrible shot and has almost no magic behind his wand - don't worry about it. I am pretty sure you've made better attempts on my life than Pierre can ever hope to."_ _

__Harry sighed and dragged Malfoy over to the sofa. Now really wasn't the time to open that particular box of charms._ _

__"Ligatus can be nasty if it misfires and I'm sure you know it. Just sit down and let me look."_ _

__Malfoy really must have been hurt, because he let Harry manhandle him into sitting and didn't even complain much._ _

__Then Harry ruined it by hesitating a moment too long with his hand hovering over the top button of Malfoy's shirt. The garment had obviously been thrown on hastily, but Harry was agonisingly aware that it would have to come off before he could get a real look at any damage Malfoy may have sustained in his escape. Harry's field-medic training hadn't even touched on what to do if your medical subject happened to be distractingly attractive._ _

__He made the mistake of looking at Malfoy's face to keep his mind off the buttons. It was so much worse. There were tiny flecks of icy blue in the grey depths of Malfoy's eyes. Harry swallowed._ _

__"Hex damage isn't contagious, Potter," said Malfoy, managing to smirk despite the pain. He reached up with his own good hand and struggled to undo the button._ _

__"That's not the problem," said Harry. Something in his face must have given away his real hesitations. The smile Malfoy gave Harry then was anything but soft; it was sharp as a basilisk's._ _

__"I do tend to have that effect."_ _

__Harry rolled his eyes, smiled slightly and found the courage to help Malfoy remove the shirt. At least he knew Malfoy couldn't be dying if he had energy for flirting._ _

__Then Harry looked down and gasped._ _

__"Shit."_ _

__"Those ones aren't new." Malfoy's voice was oddly gentle, as though Harry was the one who just got hexed and Malfoy didn't want to spook him._ _

__The Sectumsempra scars on Malfoy's chest were exactly where Harry remembered the cut marks appearing. Deep, silver curse scars. This close, and looking for it, Harry could see the spider thread thin traces of a similar scar across Malfoy's face and throat. Dittany was hard to come by, the school wouldn't have had much. It seemed obvious, now he saw it. They healed the scars on Malfoy's face and hands, but must have run out before getting to his chest. It was exactly what Aurors were trained to do too._ _

__"Shit," Harry said, yet again._ _

__"We really need to work on your vocabulary, Potter."_ _

__Harry's training finally kicked in. He pulled his attention away from the damage he himself had wrought so many years before, and focused on Malfoy's upper arm where the tail end of the new Ligatus Hex had hit. Malfoy had obviously shrugged off or counter-hexed the binding effects of the spell, but vicious red welts remained. No bleeding, no transfiguration. Harry cast a few diagnostic charms, no lingering dark magic, and no permanent damage. Small mercies. Harry cast a final soothing spell for the pain and Malfoy visibly relaxed._ _

__"You're not bad at that Potter." Malfoy started shrugging back into his shirt, movement already easier. "Don't tell anyone I said so."_ _

__Harry took the compliment at face value, and ignored the fact that Malfoy had kept his shirt wrapped around his Dark Mark the whole time. It wasn't like Harry had any real right to his curiosity on that score._ _

__"Now we've got that out of the way," said Malfoy, matter-of-factly. "I'm going to see about that tea."_ _

__He stood with renewed grace, leaving Harry still crouched by the couch and trying to get over the incongruity of Draco Malfoy willingly making him a cup of tea._ _

__"Don't get any ideas, Potter," Malfoy said over his shoulder, as he left the room. "I'm not your house-elf."_ _

__"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry shot back, grinning despite himself. At least, Harry hoped he wouldn't dream of it. His dreams and Malfoy had never been an easy thing to predict._ _

__

____

[**8**]

It turned out that Harry might not have any dreams at all. Because there was no way in hell that he was going to be able to sleep in the same bed as Malfoy.

"Um," said Harry.

"Eloquent as ever, Potter."

"Shut it," Harry said. If Malfoy wasn't going to be a professional then why should he? 

Harry felt bad for the thought almost immediately. Malfoy had to be trying pretty hard actually. They hadn't really talked, and they'd stayed in different rooms while Harry checked the built in wards and reinforced the additional protective spellwork that would let them hunker down and wait for whatever storm Malfoy had caused to blow over. Malfoy had brought Harry a cup of tolerable tea while he worked, then left him alone. It had been almost civil. It just didn't last very long.

Malfoy shrugged Harry's comment off and walked straight into the bedroom. The only bedroom in the whole, four room cottage they were stuck in until Harry's back-up arrived for them. Which could be days.

"I'll sleep on the sofa," Harry offered quickly as Malfoy started to undo his belt with elegant fingers.

"That sofa is a loveseat at most. You _are_ undersized, but even you're not that small, Potter."

"Hey," said Harry. "I am not undersized."

"Oh, I know," said Malfoy with a knowing smirk that left little doubt of the innuendo and stole Harry's breath away. "I saw the Quibbler charity special. Those Gryffindor Quidditch leathers might have been inaccurate and impractical, but they left very little to the imagination."

Harry stared and very carefully did not let his jaw drop.

"Relax Potter." Malfoy sighed. "I'm not going to try anything on you, of all people. It's 3:00am and we've both had a difficult evening." 

What did that mean? Why not on Harry, of all people? Why would he smirk at Harry like that then refuse to even consider the possibility of wanting to touch him. Malfoy really hadn't changed, he was just as much of an aggravating wanker as he always had been.

"Fine," said Harry and stomped over to the bed and unbuckling is uniform as he went. 

Malfoy swiftly turned his back on Harry to continue undressing. Which unfortunately gave Harry every opportunity to watch the git take off his faun wool trousers; not to mention a very good look at the exquisite curve of Malfoy's arse while he took his sweet time folding said trousers.

Sodding Malfoy and his sodding perfect arse. Harry collapsed into bed in his singlet and underpants, not sure if he was relieved or disappointed that Malfoy decided to keep his own pants and shirt on or not.

Malfoy got into bed without making eye contact. Harry was reminded that he wasn't the only one who knew dormroom rules. If you didn't look, it hadn't happen. Malfoy rolled onto his side with his back to Harry. 

"Nox," Harry whispered, the magical lights in the room went out in a blink. 

"Night, Potter," said Malfoy. His tone hinting at wistful.

"Night, Malfoy."

Harry listened to Malfoy breathing, his own heart racing. It didn't take Malfoy long to fall asleep, Harry could hear the change when he relaxed and drifted into a true sleep. Long, slow breaths. Almost peaceful. Malfoy slept solid and deep, in a way Harry hadn't for far too long. Every inch of him was aware of their proximity, like a tracking spell or an itch he couldn't scratch.

Light from the waxing moon still flooded the room through cracks in the mismatched safe-house curtains. Harry looked at the ceiling and tried to relax. It had very pretty molding, or whatever those fancy bits around the roof were called. Birds and snakes all tangled in roses. If he looked at it too long, they seemed to move.

It took Harry even longer to rest than usual, and when he did finally sleep he dreamed of scars and skin, kisses at wand point, a Snitch in flight, blood on his hands and Draco's arms around his waist. Even when he woke for a few moments at dawn, he wasn't sure if it had been from a frantic kind of fantasy or a nightmare. So often they were both.

[**8**]

Harry woke up alone and told himself he wasn't disappointed.

He got dressed quickly, after casting a few shoddy laundry charms that he hoped Mrs Weasley would never hear about. He checked the perimeter spells again, taking as long as he could before he had to check on Malfoy again.

He found Malfoy in the kitchen. Looking far more well pressed and presentable than a man in nothing but trousers and last-night's shirt really should. He also appeared to be cooking. At least that must be what he was doing because hexing the stove seemed unlikely, even for Malfoy.

"Stop staring and take a seat," Malfoy said, without turning around.

Harry sat down at the tiny kitchen table, mostly so he could keep watching Malfoy work. It took Harry a while to place it, but then he realised Malfoy cooked the same way Mrs Weasley did but on a much smaller scale. He cooked like someone more at home with a wand than a knife. He didn't touch the food, he spelled over the spices and he used magic instead of gas to light a flame and heat the pan. It was a tiny bit mesmerising.

Before it had really sunk in that Malfoy was cooking for him, a plate of hot beans and fried sausage was floating down in front of Harry. A cup of tea landed not long after, strong and sugary just the way Harry liked it.

"I hope you don't mind," said Malfoy, sitting down behind his own steaming plate and acting as if the whole surreal event was perfectly normal. "There actually are eggs and such, but I'm not sure how old the stasis charm was or who cast it so I wasn't about to risk it."

Harry blinked at Malfoy, then at the food, then at Malfoy again.

Malfoy tried his breakfast and made a 'hmmm' sound which Harry took for 'not bad'. Then he looked up, saw Harry watching him and sighed dramatically.

"I'm not trying to poison you," said Malfoy.

"I'm not worried that you're _trying_ to poison me," Harry admitted.

Malfoy put down his fork delicately and folded his arms. The eyebrow was up again. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to smack the git or snog him when he did that. It was all very inappropriate. 

Harry leant back and mirrored Malfoy's pose. Only without the eyebrow thing, because he couldn't do the eyebrow thing and there was no point letting Malfoy know it by trying and failing.

After a moment Malfoy deflated a bit. "Fine, starve. Or cook for yourself. Or whatever it is you want to do. I'm sorry I even tried." Malfoy looked like he was about to storm off in a huff. 

Fuck. Harry really didn't want him to storm off. 

"Look, Malfoy. I'm sorry, alright. I was just surprised. I didn't know you could cook."

"If I told you I'm a spy, I'd have to Obliviate you. But I think you can guess, considering where we are and why. Of bloody course I can cook!"

He still sounded snotty, but he stayed seated and started to eat again. He didn't look at Harry though. It felt like the unspoken peace had already been shattered, and Harry wasn't sure what he'd done wrong.

Harry tentatively tried a mouthful of the bean and sausage mixture, while trying not to look tentative at all. He was even more surprised when it turned out to be pretty good. The hint of a smirk on Malfoy suggested Harry's reaction wasn't as subtle as he had hoped.

After a few minutes of almost companionable chewing, Malfoy spoke again. "Do you know how long we'll have to stay here?" 

Harry shook his head, realised Malfoy was still avoiding looking at him and responded. "No. Bulstrode, Ron or Greystone are the other Aurors on the case. One of them will send an owl or Floo with an update, soon hopefully. We'll have more idea what the current situation looks like once they update us, and we can make a call then. When and how we move you depends on a number of factors. Mostly how blown your cover is, how safe other options are, how many of them are left on the street, and how much they want you dead."

Malfoy put his fork down again, Harry realised it was to try and hide the fact he was shaking, just a little.

"Sorry," Harry said. It was easier than he expected, saying sorry to Malfoy. Maybe he should try saying it about the scars. Maybe that would just make it worse.

"It's not your fault, Potter. I knew what I was signing up for this time. I knew it was a risk, using my real identity as a cover. But it was the only way in."

Malfoy's right hand closed over his left arm when he spoke, right where the Mark would be. Harry wasn't sure he was even aware of the gesture.

"Excuse me," said Malfoy, retreating into pureblood manners. He stood the same way water flowed. He brushed away imaginary crumbs, Vanished the rest of his breakfast and spelled his plate to join the pan which was already cleaning itself in the sink.

Harry watched him go and hated the helpless feeling left behind.

[**8**]

"Malfoy?" Harry said, knocking on the bathroom door again. Malfoy had run a bath, Harry had heard it, but he'd been in there for hours.

It would be just Harry's luck if Malfoy made a run for it and got fried on the border wards.

"Potter." Malfoy threw open the bathroom door, accompanied by a billowing wave of steam. "What do you want?"

"Er…" 

"Er? You want 'Er'? Is this some kind of slang I'm unaware of? Incredibly poor pronunciation of 'her'? In which case whom, and for what? Actually no don't tell me. I don't think I want to know."

Malfoy was wearing nothing but a very small towel and a lot of rather lickable looking water droplets. His hair had turned molten gold under the water, slicked back by it but in a way that actually suited him. The hex burn was faded, but Malfoy's other scars were white against his bath flushed skin. His Dark Mark was almost visible on the arm holding the towel in place. The sharp edge of a sculpted hipbone protruded above the towel. As Harry watched, a water drop rolled down Malfoy's stomach and slid under the towel.

"They're my scars, Potter. If anyone gets to be a complete ninny about them, it's me, yeah?"

Harry forced his treacherous eyes back to Malfoy's face. That damn eyebrow was up again.

It had to be some kind of sadistic game. Taunts, insults, hexes and punches hadn't worked, so now Malfoy was trying to seduce Harry to death. Harry wasn't sure what the rules were, but he wasn't about to let Malfoy win.

Harry gave in and took a step closer to Malfoy.

"Potter?"

He smelled like steam, and skin, and Conjured soap. They were toe-to-toe and so close Harry could feel Malfoy's body heat. Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't give an inch of ground. His eyes really were like a lake after rain, and his lips were-

Malfoy kissed him. 

Harry reciprocated eagerly, wrapped one desperate arm around Malfoy's neck and pulled him even closer. Harry felt Malfoy's surprise, felt him shiver and respond, felt the kiss change from challenge to collaboration. It may have been intended as an invasion, but it tasted like a victory. 

Draco's hand was on Harry's hip, hot and claiming even through far too many layers of fabric. Harry held on because letting go wasn't an option. Not when Draco's skin was even softer than Harry had imagined, warm and wet and satin smooth under his roaming hands. 

Harry tugged on the towel and Draco let it drop. Harry took half a step back, it was as far as he could drag himself but he just had to see. 

"Fuck," Harry breathed. 

"I rather hoped that might be the plan?" 

"You're magnificent," Harry said. He reached out, almost reverent and utterly enchanted. He couldn't quite believe it when he got his hand around Draco's glorious prick. Draco reaction was even better, he took in a sharp breath and his head rolled back, allowing Harry access to kiss the arch of his throat.

"I… am aware," Draco said, drawling but broken by his breathing. 

"And arrogant," Harry added through a smile and a kiss, and a sharp twist of his wrist. Somehow that vanity didn't seem so bad when he had all the evidence available to touch, taste, and feel.

"I'm aware of that one too," said Draco, still smirking. "You, on the other hand have far too many clothes on for a man who's about to get fucked so hard he can't remember his own name."

Harry's brain kind of shut down at that point. The idea of Draco Malfoy fucking him six ways from Sunday might be the hottest thing he'd ever seriously considered.

"If that's okay with you, that is?" Draco asked. The smugness in his tone suggested, despite the uncertainty in his eyes, that Draco understood that the glazed over look on Harry's face was from lust, not disgust. Harry decided he better reassure him anyway. Just in case. Harry had missed out on a lot of chances in his life, and he wasn't about to miss out on this one.

"Yeah… that's… more than okay with me. In fact, can we do that right now?" 

When Draco pulled them closer and kissed his assent, Harry didn't bother walking, he just Apparated them both to the bedroom. 

Harry's bed-making spells were almost as useless as his laundry spells, but Draco didn't seem to notice.

[**8**]

Harry woke up with a naked Malfoy wrapped around him and an owl tapping on the window. For a few seconds he considered ignoring the owl, then he remembered exactly how and why he'd ended up with his arms full of Draco and decided it was almost certainly important.

He disentangled himself from the softly snoring weight of his new lover, and stalked to the window to let the owl in. It fluttered to land gently enough, but once he had the message it didn't even wait for a treat, let alone a reply. Not a good sign.

Harry unrolled the message.

_H-_

_Hold tight. Found out who Blackbird is. Sorry mate._  
Lay low, 2 days-- 3 max.  
No return message. Just try not kill each other. 

_-RW._

Harry laughed. 

He wasn't sure if Ron would be pleased or horrified at Harry's new technique for avoiding coming to hexes with Malfoy. Maybe a little of both, if the way both Ron and Hermione claimed genuine concern over his normally abysmal love life was any indication. 

Malfoy woke up then, probably from Harry chuckling to himself like an idiot.

"Owl?" he asked, sleep mussed. For some reason finding out that Draco Malfoy could ever be inarticulate was incredibly endearing, even if he did have a pretty good excuse after the way they spent the previous evening.

"Yeah, sorry. It's an update on your case. Kind of. Not much info yet, sorry."

Draco blinked a few times then watched Harry carefully, sizing him up like a distant snitch.

"I'm sure you can find a way to comfort me, Auror Potter. Are you coming back to bed? Or were you planning to stand around ridiculously naked and posing in that one ray of winter sunlight all day? I assure you there are no charitable photographers to make the most of it this time."

Harry realised that he _was_ still naked, and he was rather nearer the window than he should be. 

"I think I can come back to bed," said Harry.

"Good." Draco rewarded him with one of those soft, real smiles. The ones Harry had only ever seen in pictures. It was even more tempting when it was turned on him directly.

[**8**]

It wasn't Ron, but Millicent Bulstrode, who came to collect them both 3 days later. She had been Malfoy's primary handler during the original operation so it made sense.

Harry had been hoping for Ron though: Draco and Harry had a bet including a number of sexual favours riding on how Ron would react to the news that Harry was shagging Malfoy. Harry had his metaphorical money on Ron going red and maybe fainting, while Draco had bet on a more mature reaction lauding Harry's happiness. Harry was rather looking forward to losing this particular bet anyway.

Draco and Harry had come to a number of understandings in the intervening days, going public and taking things much faster than anyone would approve of was just one. They had made progress, of a sort, even if quite a few of their hours together were spent in bed. They still found time to Conjure a few bridges over the embers of their past.

Unfortunately, Bulstrode's update might crush Harry's hopes of finding out what else they might build before they even got a chance to try anything more than their 'claustrophobia induced affair' (as Malfoy insisted on calling their relationship so far).

"Like I said," Bulstrode continued, ignoring Harry's obvious distraction. "We've almost got Pierre Montmauvais. It’ll be two, three weeks at the most. Maybe a month. We're lucky, they haven't figured out how much Malfoy knew, so it's only Montmauvais we need off the board before it'll be safe to put Malfoy back in public. I would suggest at least three months in hiding. Just to be safe. Don't look so worried Potter, Malfoy can manage it." 

Bulstrode didn't seem too concerned but Harry was.

"We can't exactly put a pureblood in the Protected Persons!" Harry pointed out. Even Muggleborn wizards often had trouble adapting to the Muggle witness protection service. Hell, even Muggles did.

The thought of Malfoy trying to pretend to be anything other than a pretentiously posh wizard was hilarious. The man couldn't even do the dishes without a wand. Watching Malfoy spell his way around the kitchen was Harry's new hobby, just thinking about it was pretty appealing. Which was a thought he would have kicked himself for a week ago. This time it just gave him a solution.

"I suppose you could always stay with me, just while things quieten down? My house is still under a Fidelius, and it might even like you?" Harry had started talking directly to Draco halfway through, not really caring what Bulstrode thought if Draco didn't like it.

"You think I need a permanent Auror presence?" Draco raised the infuriatingly perfect eyebrow, and Harry thought he might be a little bit in love with that eyebrow.

"Something like that," said Harry, and pulled Draco into a kiss. Probably a little bit more passionate than was appropriate with someone else in the room.

As it turned out, they really should have placed bets on Millicent's reaction too. Harry learned three new swear words, found out Ron had three Galleons on the current outcome, and still got to take his new boyfriend home for lack of a better option. All in all, there were worse ways to get kicked off a case.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](https://hd-erised.livejournal.com/96676.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at hd_erised@livejournal.com. The author will be revealed January 8th.


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